


Keeping Safe

by zubeneschamali



Series: The Bourne Trilogy [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, spy!Jensen, spy!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26868325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zubeneschamali/pseuds/zubeneschamali
Summary: Timestamp set before The Winchester Identity. Sam and Jensen deal with the aftermath of an operation gone slightly wrong, maybe learning something about each other in the process.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Sam Winchester
Series: The Bourne Trilogy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614190
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19
Collections: Where Every Birthday is Bangin'





	Keeping Safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cherie_morte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherie_morte/gifts).



> Written for cherie_morte's birthday because of her love for this pairing. And maybe some foreshadowing for The Winchester Ultimatum as well…

"I still don't understand how you knew that guy was part of the bombing plot." Jensen was stretched out on the couch, crutches leaning against the arm of the couch behind him. "He wasn't in any of our briefing information, and he wasn't part of the London bombing. Even Alex said he'd never seen him before."

"I don't know, something about him just didn't feel right." Sam was searching the refrigerator for something, pushing aside takeout boxes and wilting produce. He finally stood up and shut the door. "Want a glass of water?"

"I'm fine." Jensen patted the edge of the couch next to his leg in its bulky cast. "Come sit." 

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "Yeah, just a minute." He poured himself a glass of water and drank it down. Then he reached for the bottle of whiskey in the liquor cabinet and poured out a couple of fingers.

"I'll take some of that," Jensen said lightly. 

"Not with your meds," Sam retorted. He stared into the glass as if he was going to down it as quickly as he had the water. Then he set it on the counter and turned to Jensen. "You should be in bed resting."

"It's a broken leg. It's in a cast. It's going to heal in a few months. I need to stay off of it, that's all. Alex told me I can even start doing some analysis next week from home, maybe go into the office once I learn how to get around on the crutches better."

"You—" Sam broke off. Then he grabbed the glass and gulped down the whiskey. 

Jensen couldn't help but admire the long line of his neck for a moment. But when Sam slammed down the glass and turned to him, the fire in his eyes took Jensen aback. "Hey, c'mere," Jensen said, gesturing towards him.

Sam glanced at the whiskey bottle before taking the few long strides through the studio apartment that brought him to the couch. He dropped to his knees next to the couch, reaching out to cup Jensen's face in one huge hand. In a low voice, he said, "I saw him move towards you, and I was two steps too far away. He shoved you onto the tracks, and the train was coming, and I—"

"I know." Jensen put his hand over Sam's, holding it to his cheek. "I heard you scream my name as I rolled out of the way. I know my leg must have broken when I hit the tracks, but I didn't even feel it right away. I was afraid that he was going to go after you next, and I had to get back up there to help. But then I just—couldn't move."

They'd been in a station on the Paris metro, acting on intelligence about a second bombing that would be a follow-up to the one in London only a few months prior. They'd only realized they were at the right station when Sam tackled a guy with a duffle bag and Jensen pulled the bag open to find explosives inside. Before they realized he wasn't the only one in on it, his accomplice had shoved Jensen onto the tracks right as a train was coming, with barely enough time to roll under the overhang of the platform to avoid being crushed.

Jensen hadn't come out unscathed, but a broken leg was better than it could have been. From the dark expression that was never far from Sam's face, he knew he was lucky. He also knew that it wasn't just his injuries that were provoking a reaction. Sam had to be thinking about his father and brother and how they'd been violently taken away from him.

Sure enough, Sam was going on in a low tone, "Until the train passed and I could get down there, I didn't know if you—" He pressed his lips together and then raised his head to meet Jensen's eyes, grief and fear darkening his own. "I can't lose you, Jensen. I _can't_."

"Hey, you're not going to." Jensen leaned forward until he could press his lips to Sam's. "Maybe next time I'll listen to you when you say you don't want to go on an assignment."

Sam's gaze cut to the side. "I just…"

"You had a bad feeling, I know. Same as the bad feeling you had about the guy with the duffle." Jensen lowered their clasped hands to his lap. "Some day you're going to have to tell me more about this intuition of yours. I get the feeling Alex would have you teaching seminars about it if he could."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think it can be taught, Jensen. It's…" He trailed off and shook his head. "Just something that you're born with, I guess."

"Well, I'm awfully glad that you have it." Sam gave him a surprised look, and Jensen kissed the back of his hand. "We did good. We stopped them from carrying out an attack. A lot of people are alive and unharmed today because of you. I don't really care how you did it."

Sam searched his eyes, and Jensen was surprised at the desperation in Sam's gaze. He tried to convey back his support and appreciation as best he could. Finally, Sam leaned forward so his head was resting on Jensen's chest, his sigh warm on Jensen's neck. Jensen stroked his fingers through Sam's hair, feeling both of them grow calmer at the touch. 

Of course, then Jensen had to go and ruin the moment by saying, "I really liked that part of it. I think I want to do more of that."

Sam drew back, looking at him warily. "What do you mean?"

Jensen shrugged one shoulder. "I know that what we do is important, that it leads to bigger things even if we don't usually know what it's about. Translating files, picking up documents, all that. But this was so much more immediate. We stopped a _bombing_ , Sam. Right there in that subway station. We did a lot of good."

"You almost _died_ ," Sam said flatly. 

"But I didn't. And once I can get around again, I can start training more, do more field work. I think we're good at it, Sam."

"You don't—" Sam broke off, shaking his head in frustration. "You don't know, Jensen. What it's like. What kind of roads that can lead you down."

"And you do? You've been working for Ravenswood just as long as I have. You've done the same assignments as me this whole time." _Except you haven't needed the weapons training that I have_ , Jensen added silently.

Sam's gaze was on the floor. "I pay attention, all right? I talk to people, I see what it does to them when they come back from an assignment like that. I think of how you were after London, when we weren't able to stop it." He lowered his voice and went on, "I think about what it was like when I—when I shot someone. I don't want that for you, Jensen." 

Jensen grabbed his hand and held on tight. He remembered Sam's anguish after firing a gun to save both of their lives, how he'd repeated over and over how he'd killed a human being. Jensen had tried to get him through it, but he knew how hard it had been. He said softly, "I don't exactly want that, either. But I want to make a difference in the world, Sam. I want to keep people safe. Not everyone has the ability to do that, and I think you and I do."

When Sam looked up, his eyes were slightly red. "I want to keep _you_ safe."

"Oh, Sam." Jensen tugged him forward until they were kissing. Sam leaned into it almost fiercely at first, until Jensen cupped his face with one hand. Then Sam paused and tilted his head slightly, turning the kiss slower and sweeter.

Jensen drank it in. He hadn't had much contact with Sam while he'd been in the hospital, since Sam was being debriefed on their operation. It was good to finally be at home with him, to take the time to reassure him that he was okay, that both of them were okay.

Jensen teased at Sam's lips with his tongue, and Sam gently drew back. "You're supposed to be resting," he chided.

"I can rest and kiss," Jensen pouted.

A tiny smile curled the corner of Sam's mouth. "Tell you want. Why don't you lie down in bed, and I'll tuck you in."

Jensen waggled his eyebrows. 

"To sleep," Sam said sternly as he started to stand up. 

"Okay, okay." Jensen started the laborious process of reaching for his crutches and lurching to his feet, but all of a sudden Sam was scooping him up into his arms. "Whoa, watch it!"

"This okay?" Sam asked as he stood up, Jensen in his arms like a blushing bride.

Jensen might have actually been blushing, but that was at the thought of how Sam could just fucking pick him up, cast and all. "Yeah, I'm good."

Sam carefully carried him across the room to the bed and deposited him so gently that Jensen felt like he was just sinking into the mattress. "I could sleep a little," Jensen acknowledged.

"Good." Sam went around to the other side of the bed and draped the covers over Jensen before stretching out on his side. "I'll be right here."

Jensen closed his eyes and soon felt Sam's fingers running through his hair. He sighed and sank back into the pillow. He knew Sam had to be watching him as he fell asleep, would probably be watching him as he slept. He didn't mind. If it made Sam feel better, it was all right with him.


End file.
